The Fifth
by fanta-faerie
Summary: The first person that Finnick Odair ever fell in love with was a little sea-girl made of china with seaweed-green hair and a mouth painted the color of a goldfish.


The first person that Finnick Odair ever fell in love with was a little sea-girl made of china with seaweed-green hair and a mouth painted the color of a goldfish.

He was seven years old and she graced the top of the fire mantelpiece with a quiet dignity and elegance that that none of the girls his age possessed. She was perfect.

And he was in love.

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The second person that Finnick Odair ever fell in love with was a real girl- one made of flesh and blood and tightly braided hair that swung teasingly over her shoulder as she walked past him.

He was thirteen and she was fifteen and god, if she wasn't everything he wanted wrapped up in one tight, womanly package.

She had wide-set eyes the color of sand that would flutter into a half-closed smirk every time they caught him staring.

He wasn't sure if she liked him- or hell, if she even cared- but during the long, aching days filled with water and work and weary bones, he thought about the curve of her hips and the sound of her sighs and it all seemed a little more bearable somehow.

They fucked three weeks to the day they met, limbs tangling behind a lone shanty on the beach during one of his breaks.

She was dead a month later in a fishing accident- a rogue wave kept her and three others under the water until she washed up on the beach, bloated and disgusting, a crab already settled in the red entrails of her stomach.

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The third person that Finnick Odair ever loved was a man named Haymitch Abernathy and he regretted every second of it.

Haymitch was tall and not-too-handsome with crooked nose and a slightly sarcastic smile, but he was honest and Finnick liked that.

He called out for wine every hour or so- adding a few well-placed insults when it didn't arrive fast enough- and Finnick was surprised when Haymitch took notice of him before the Games; mentors from other districts generally shied away from talking with participants not their own.

Haymitch's tone was short and his words were shorter.

Don't die.

And thirteen days later, when Finnick Odair was broken and exhausted and slightly mad, he caught sight of Haymitch's eyes and somehow managed an almost saucy wink.

And the man had laughed, a hoarse sound coming from a too-drunk mouth and Finnick realized they were all crazy, just a little bit.

And there was nothing he could do about it.

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The fourth person that Finnick Odair ever loved was a woman with bright pink hair, sparkling gold eye shadow and skin the color of a ripe plum.

She was one of his 'dates' and he was miserable, god, so miserable from the fake laughter and sweetened voices and long nights spent with strangers.

But then she whispered a secret into his ear and he turned his head in surprise and she caught his mouth with hers-

And he thought he might love her, just a little bit.

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The fifth and last person that Finnick Odair ever loved was a poor, mad girl named Annie with lost blue eyes and fingers that dug shadows into her skin.

She was nothing- not a true victor, not a whole person- but somehow she was everything for him.

He lived for the days that she recognized him, that she called for him in a breaking, tired voice.

He loved the days that she spent holding him, knowing him, understanding his weakness and his fear.

He needed the days of his life to be intermingled with hers until there wasn't _his _or _hers _or _yours _and _mine_ but only _theirs,_ with a forever of deep blue oceans and the smell of salt and wet skin stretching on in an endless dream.

She asked him once, before the war and the second Games and the end of his life- who his first love had been.

Her voice had been deceptively casual and she was kneading a lump of dough between her fingers but he saw through it and laughed and laughed and laughed until she was affronted and flushed and locked herself in a room upstairs.

She cried for a moment when she heard the door slam below- but then she heard it open again and he was in front of her, holding a little sea-girl with seaweed-green hair and a mouth the color of a goldfish and she laughed too and he wished he could hold that moment forever in his hand.

But then he died and it was all over and that was that.

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**Yay, first Hunger Games fic! Please, please review, especially if you're going to favorite this! **

**Thanks so much,**

**-FantaFaerie**


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